


good/easy

by therm0dynamics



Category: Romantically Apocalyptic
Genre: Angst, Emotions, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, So many emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 06:16:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3967579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therm0dynamics/pseuds/therm0dynamics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beyond anything else, Engie hated feeling useless and out of place. He was accustomed to being good at what he did. And now that position had been taken over by Charles Snippy, ex-subordinate, ex-paper pusher, ex-insomniac, ex-tour guide. He was less than nobody before - and oh, how Gromov had let him know it - but in this new world, Snippy was the only one both sane enough and skilled enough to keep them all alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	good/easy

It was truly amazing how his life had changed, Alexander Gromov mused as he picked his way through the post-apocalyptic wasteland that had literally and figuratively become his world. Once upon a time - many years - a lifetime ago - he had been a god. The world's golden child, the brilliant engineer, the genius, the master of glorious machines. Once upon a time, he had been  _important_. But now, after the end, he was reduced to a man named only "Engie," and the role of VIP had gone to the man trudging along only a few paces in front of him.

It was infuriating. Beyond anything else, Engie hated feeling useless and out of place. He was accustomed to being  _good_  at what he did. And now that position had been taken over by Charles Snippy, ex-subordinate, ex-paper pusher, ex-insomniac, ex-tour guide. Snippy had been less than nobody before - and oh, how Gromov had let him know it - but in this new world, Snippy was the only one both sane enough and skilled enough to keep them all alive. Everything from supply runs to battling mutant wild creatures to keeping peace among the more - volatile - unstable - no, downright  _insane_  - members of their ragtag group.

_Why does he make this look so easy?_ Engie wondered, as he vaguely heard the sniper mention something about needing to make good time and getting back to base before nightfall.

"Try and keep up, Gromov."

_All right, Snippy,_  the engineer thought venomously. _You and I both know that this is child's play for you. You don't have to be so condescending about it._

His train of thought was rudely interrupted as he mis-stepped and stumbled over one of the many twisted beams of metal strewn in his path. He fell noisily, sending other scraps of metal rattling down around him.  _Fuck. How humiliating._ Doing his best to ignore his embarrassing fall, Engie picked himself up and rolled his eyes as the man in the black-and-white jacket navigated the minefield of debris with a practiced ease.

"Still alive back there, Gromov?" came the less-than-concerned question.

"Ha fucking ha," Engie shot back caustically through gritted teeth.

_Concentrate. Don't screw up. Don't give that blue-eyed bastard any more fodder for mockery_ , Engie repeated to himself.

He wasn't even sure why he volunteered for the mission in the first place. Earlier that day, sometime after a mid-afternoon meal, Captain had declared a "state of emergency in zee glorious kingdom of Captainia" as the food supplies had run out completely, prompting a prolonged groan and a defeated sigh from Snippy. The sniper had then immediately excused himself from whatever shenanigans Captain and Pilot were in the process of concocting by muttering something about a huge warehouse of food that he found the other day that was "only" a ten-mile hike away. He'd looked pointedly at Gromov, electing him as the least shitty companion for such a trip. 

So Engie's choices were between staying behind with Pilot and Captain and being subjected to their special brand of insanity, or going on a long food scavenging mission with the obnoxious, muleheaded - though admittedly hyper-competent - sniper. A food run was the lesser of two evils, Engie reasoned. It'd been more convincing at the time.

The walk was endless, and the silence that stretched between him and Snippy was incredibly awkward. The sniper was in his element out in the wasteland, and the engineer was the bumbling idiot who couldn't do anything right including, apparently, walking without falling over.

Just as they entered the outskirts of what had been a moderately-sized city, Snippy stopped so abruptly that Engie nearly ran into him. The marksman turned to face the engineer, pinning him down with a dead-serious look and suddenly dropping his voice to a low whisper. "It'd be a good idea to be extremely fucking quiet from here on out."

"Why?" Engie whispered back. He saw the sniper look around nervously and a feeling of nervousness started constricting his chest. If the one who knew what he was doing got nervous, then that was definitely occasion for him to be downright  _terrified_.

"Because there's a bunch - herd - flock - whatever - a  _fuck-ton_  of mutant monsters around this area. Big, nasty. Lots of teeth."

"How do you know?"

Snippy muttered something about tracking imprints, reading trails, known mutant behavioral patterns, and having previously tangled with them, to near-fatal results. Engie zoned out and drifted off again into his _easy-for-YOU-to-say_ train of thought. The man really could be fatally infuriating at times, even without the extra condescension or the chance to demonstrate his superior knowledge at every chance he got. When he did get the chance to show off, he became nearly intolerable.

_Maybe it's 'cause he has nobody else to listen to him talk on and on about these things that nobody cares about anyway,_ Engie thought.

What annoyed him even more was how painfully obvious it was that without Snippy, he would be dead in less than a week, tops. If not from starvation, then definitely from being fed to a giant whale or being crushed by Pilot and Captain's giant irradiated pet worm monster. He quickly changed his train of thought. It made him uncomfortable to think that he owed the sniper something as vital as his miserable continued existence on this miserable planet.

"Be quiet," Snippy commanded. "You hear me?"

"Yes,  _sir_ ," Engie retorted sarcastically.  _Easier said than done_. He didn't much appreciate being told what to do, especially not by  _Charles Snippy_ of all people, useful and life-saving though the information might've been.

Engie proceeded in silence, following the sniper's example, or at least he valiantly attempted to. Every footstep he took sounded like a gunshot, every breath was grating and loud, and every rustle of his clothing seemed deafening. To settle his nerves and keep alert, he kept his eyes on the scarily silent, focused man ahead of him. The sniper seemed to move like a ghost, somehow instinctively knowing where to step, how to flicker from one patch of shadow to another, where to stand so that he blended in perfectly with the jagged landscape.

_Showoff._

After a circuitous march through deserted alleyways and side streets to preserve their cover, Snippy finally stopped in front of a large pile of fallen bricks. As soon as he stood stock-still, the jagged black-and-white patterns on his jacket helped him meld right into the background. Only the blue of his goggles stood out sharply against the otherwise drab debris.  _How the hell does this blue-eyed chameleon freak_ do _that?_

Engie felt a sharp poke in his ribs.

_Over there_ , gestured Snippy, pointing toward a warehouse entrance by an alleyway.

Engie nodded and shrugged in a _so-what's-the-plan_ gesture.

_Easy in, easy out._

Nod of unhappy understanding. Nod of reluctant approval.

_Ready?_

Exaggeratedly overconfident and sarcastic nod of _are-you-kidding-me-I-was-born-ready_.

The two men dashed across the open, uncovered street at a quick clip and flattened themselves against the wall of the alleyway next to the cavernous warehouse building. The tension kicked up another few notches, and Engie was close to hyperventilation. When they finally got into the building and started picking out the decent cans of food, his hands were shaking so badly he nearly dropped everything he was holding. Snippy assured him that it was a relatively safe area and that they had plenty of cover. With that, the marksman blithely continued picking up and discarding cans of food at his discretion as he wandered through the tangle of shelving units that comprised the entirety of the huge building. They really _had_ struck gold here, though Engie noted that his companion had one hand on his gun at all times, which was hardly reassuring.

And besides, the engineer kept _hearing_  things. Growls, rustling, rumbling, shuffling. He dismissed them all as his imagination, or the wind, or the natural ambience of the wasteland, or something that  _wasn't_  a mutant monster waiting to maul him to death.

By reminding himself to think happy thoughts, he managed to weather out the rest of the time in the warehouse, packing undamaged cans of food into the large duffel bag that Snippy had brought. But upon finishing, Engie felt immediately anxious again about the long sneak back to base. Ten miles. Daylight fading. Wind picking up. The (very literal) jaws of danger. Every nerve in his body regretted not staying behind with Captain and Pilot that morning.

"Ready?" Snippy asked, putting the full bag of canned food on his back and shouldering his rifle.

"Let's get the hell out of here," Engie said.

"Wimp."

"I'm being  _practical_. There won't be enough daylight for us to make it back in time. It's a ten mile walk."

" _Wimp_."

But as soon as they exited the store, Snippy stopped joking around and tensed up immediately. He glanced sharply to the left. Engie's heart stopped. He looked over at the sniper, copper eyes dark with fear.

_Don't. Move._

Engie nodded and froze.

A massive furry creature poked its head out of the alleyway beside them, zoning in on and ambling up to Engie immediately.

It sniffed at him.

Then it roared - a horrible, keening, rumbling noise which promised nothing but pain and death. The sound echoed through the abandoned city, shattering the peace. Engie stared down its throat, just inches away from its wickedly knife-sharp teeth.

"SNIPPY!" he screamed, completely forgetting about being quiet and staying still and everything not related to the thought of  _oh God, I'm going to die RIGHT NOW_.

"Fuck, Gromov! RUN!" Snippy shouted.

The two men took off instantaneously, right as another one of the mutants burst out of the alleyway beside them. With all pretense of stealth gone, the two men leapt and stumbled and tripped and cursed as they tore off down the street, the two monsters in hot pursuit.

"This way!" Snippy shouted, dodging into the tangle of alleyways they had emerged from. "There's more cover here."

"When the hell ... did these fuckers get smart enough ... to ambush us?" Engie panted as he attempted to trail Snippy around another sudden turn in the twisting and turning maze they were entrapped in.

"They're smarter than you! At least they know to KEEP THE FUCK QUIET!" Snippy shot back, not even the slightest bit out of breath.

Engie didn't have the breath to respond.

In fact, breathing in general was growing very difficult.

So was moving.

His brain told him to keep running.

His body would not obey him.

"Come  _on_!" Snippy screamed, catching him by the arm and dragging him to the front. "Keep going!"

_EASY FOR YOU TO SAY!_ Engie yelled mentally, and pushed himself forward with an effort.

The sounds of pursuit grew closer. The two snarling, raving mad beasts skittered along on the asphalt behind them, barreling indiscriminately over walls, around corners, and down tight passages with a speed that belied their bulk. With a sinking heart, Engie realized that the monsters were catching up. They were already outnumbered - two mutants against two humans was hardly a fair and even match. They were being slowly run down.

And, as good as the sniper's intentions were, running the hapless, inexperienced engineer out in front was abad idea.

A bad, _bad_ idea.

Skidding ungracefully around a tight right turn, Gromov was confronted with the worst situation he could imagine. A fifteen-foot tall fence topped with razor wire stood between them and open ground. The snarling of hungry, angry wild mutants echoed behind them.

He muttered a steady stream of expletives as he pushed himself up against the fence, rattling it, desperately looking for a weakness, a hole in the chain link, something,  _anything_  so that they could get out. The monsters were on the prowl and growing closer - Engie could hear them clear as day - and every second they delayed was a second closer to their potential demise.

"No," Snippy said with finality. "You have to climb."

"Wait, but- " Engie said frantically.

"Shut the fuck up and  _climb_ ," Snippy ordered, rounding on the engineer and prompting him to scramble for footholds and handholds on the rusted wire. Helped up by Snippy, he ungracefully made it to the top, almost ensnared himself on the razor wire, pulled himself free and flung himself off the other side, landing with an ungraceful  _thump_ next to the marksman again, on the other side of the fence. "Here, take this."

Snippy flung his backpack of food up over the fence to join Engie on the other side. The sniper then mounted the fence himself, pulling himself up swiftly.

It wasn't fast enough.

One of the angry beasts clawed its way down the alleyway and leapt viciously upon the sniper, who was halfway up the fence. The mutant animal caught Snippy by the arm.

"Run, Gromov!" the sniper yelled, flailing and thrashing in the jaws of the monster, trying to free himself.

"Wh -"

"Just fucking  _RUN_ \- ahh, shit!"

The sniper screamed in pain. With a final, desperate effort, he jammed the butt of his rifle as hard as he could into the monster's nose, causing it to release the man with a pained and pissed-off roar.

Engie, seeing this, took the duffel bag of food - much heavier than it looked - and took off running. He heard the fence rattle as the sniper scaled his way up. The enraged shrieks of the monsters snapping at him again. The cursing as he too got entangled in the wire and the painful gasps as he tore himself loose.

Winded, the engineer slowed down a little, glanced backwards over his shoulder just in time to see the sniper take a flying leap off the top of the fence, hit the ground and tumble to break his fall, and immediately pick himself back up at a full sprint.

"Come  _on_ , Gromov!" Snippy yelled, snatching the bag of food back from him, and the two men resumed their escape through the wasteland. Instead of climbing or giving up in search of easier prey, the determined mutants hurled themselves at the fence repeatedly, and within a mere minute, had battered it down with their sheer weight. The chase was back on.

But at least in the twisting, turning alleyways, they had a chance to outmaneuver the beasts. In a straight chase over flat land, there was no contest.

"Snippy," the engineer panted. "There's no way - we can't outrun - those things - "

"I noticed," the sniper said, sending a spike of resentment through the engineer, despite the fear and adrenaline overwhelming his body. "You see that scrap heap?"

Engie's gaze alighted on a veritable mountain of tangled scrap metal and concrete chunks - remnants of a once-glorious building, he was sure, but that hardly mattered now.

"Climb."

"Wh - ?"

" _GODDAMNIT_ , GROMOV, JUST FUCKING DO IT!"

The two men catapulted themselves at the scrap heap, grabbing at any footholds or handholds they could, sending chunks of concrete and steel beams avalanching below. Within seconds of concentrated effort, they were both on the top of the pile, breathless and panting.

From here, Engie finally got a good look at their pursuers: huge beasts the approximate size and shape of bears, but fleet and vicious as wolves. The beasts had long, blunt snouts and mouths full of dagger-like teeth to rival those of a shark's. Their dirty grey-black fur, long, spiky, matted strands the color of ash and charcoal, was shot through with bone-white. Each had three eyes - a characteristic of most living things in the wasteland - that glowed demonically red and baleful.

"What  _are_  those things?"

"Fair game," Snippy responded bluntly, unslinging his gun. "Get down."

This time, Gromov didn't waste his breath asking why. He immediately dropped onto one knee at his companion's feet.

Snippy released the safety on his namesake sniper rifle, chambering a bullet. The sharp sound seemed to echo through the wasteland, and the engineer's heart raced as if he were still running. The sniper braced himself, legs apart, and drew in a long, steadying breath.

Engie watched in wonder as time seemed to bend and warp around the marksman. The frantic chase, the desperation, the adrenaline, all the terror and the anger and the frustration that Snippy must have been feeling,  _everything -_  he seemed to be able to just turn it off in a single instant. All tension melted away as the sniper centered himself, preparing his shot as the targets drew closer.

_How does he_ do _that? How can he just shut himself off like that?_

In one fluid, easy motion, Snippy breathed in deeply, raised the gun to eye level, and without even seeming to aim, fired off a shot. Down on the ground, a solid two hundred yards away, Engie saw one of the monsters toss its head and roar in anger, but it otherwise seemed unharmed. Unfazed, Snippy lowered his rifle, reloaded with a smooth, practiced motion, and raised it to eye level again.

Gromov found himself breathing in sync with the sniper.

Deep breath.

Another shot rang out. The mutant in the lead stumbled and dropped down, unmoving.

Breathe out. Lower the gun. Reload. Deep breath. Raise weapon. Aim - and - shoot.

The second monster dropped down dead in a splatter of blood, a bullet hole dead center on its forehead.

_God. He's terrifying._

Breathe out.

"And that's that," Snippy declared, not moving and not lowering his rifle. "Let's go before more of them show up."

Engie just stared at his companion, who after another few seconds of scrutinizing the horizon carefully, decided it was safe to put his gun down and snap the safety back on. The engineer dumbly nodded and started half-climbing, half-sliding back down the scrap heap. Once both men were safely on the ground, Snippy started marching off without a second word, though now that the action was over, Engie could tell that he was furious.

The engineer rolled his eyes, expecting another lecture about keeping up and responsibility in the near future.

\-----

The rest of the walk back to base seemed to drag on for an eternity. The sun set abruptly, plunging the world into darkness, and the two men were forced to slow down to pick their way across the uneven ground, always on the alert for more potential hungry, angry mutants. They finally stumbled back into the ruined building they called their home and dropped their bags wearily on the ground with a loud clatter that brought Pilot bounding in like a large, overexcited, green-eyed dog. Captain swept in shortly after, long coat swishing about his heavy black boots.

"Mein minions! Excellent job collecting zee food. But you took too long. Pilot and I are hungry and we have been kept waiting all day." Pilot nodded emphatically as Captain continued, "Many points will be deducted for zee delay!"

"I had no idea this was graded," Snippy deadpanned in tones of flat, unamused bewilderment, though the engineer could tell that he was three seconds away from losing it.

"Yes! And you failed! Too slow, you shoes!" Pilot announced, dancing around and gleefully echoing his CO, who, perhaps sensing an argument ensuing, had tactically stepped back a few feet. He somehow sipped at his tea through his mask, awaiting the oncoming show.

"But Gromov - " Snippy started.

"Don't start with me," the engineer said stridently. "It's not my fault."

"Sure. You couldn't keep quiet for  _three seconds_  when I  _asked you_ _to_ like _fifteen fucking times_ and you almost get us  _both_ killed. Tell me how that isn't your fault."

"Oh, yeah, like that was so easy to do. You would scream, too, if you had to look  _death_  in the _fucking_   _face_. Don't act like you wouldn't!"

"For fuck's sake - I would at least know well enough to shut up when it came down to  _saving my own ass_. What'd I tell you before we left this morning?  What do I _keep telling you_? You wanna stay alive, _you do what I say_."

Something in the engineer snapped. All the pent-up terror and rage and downright frustration that Gromov had been holding in since the mission started suddenly came flooding out in a torrent of words.

"You think it's that easy to just - just do all that shit that you do? Just because you're  _oh-so-perfect_  at everything and make it look so  _goddamn easy_  doesn't mean that  _everyone else_  thinks it's easy and it sure as hell doesn't mean that  _I_  think it's easy, you arrogant asshole, and it doesn't give you the right to be so fucking  _condescending_  about everything you do! Ohhhhhhh, so you're so much better at _everything_ than all of us here and everyone else is an idiot because they can't keep up with you. Fantastic. So how does it feel? All those years in your dead-end job as a tour guide, all that time being on the outside looking in and you finally get to show off how  _superior_  you are? Does it feel all better now? Finally  _being_  somebody? Finally  _meaning_  something? Finally doing something right once in your worthless life? You fucking lifelong  _failure_ ."

There was a resounding silence following this outburst.

Engie realized that he had gone too far. Extremely, completely, absolutely, entirely too far. He met Snippy's eyes and with a feeling of dread gnawing at the pit of his stomach, realized that even through the lenses of his respirator mask, the sniper didn't look enraged or annoyed. In fact, there was no emotion at all in his bright blue eyes. He just looked blank and lifeless. And very, very tired. The engineer held back a gasp as a sudden wave of regret washed over him.

_Oh God. I'm didn't mean all that._ _Oh God, I'm so sorry._ _Yell at me._ _Hit me._ _Do SOMETHING._

The silence stretched on, long, cold and empty. Pilot, shocked into silence for the first time Engie could recall, backed up away from the two. Captain stepped forward, intending to berate the engineer for his extraordinarily uncalled-for words. But the sniper beat him to it.

"It's been a long day. Go eat, Gromov," he said simply, turned, and walked away.

Dinner was extremely subdued. The sniper had wandered off to nobody-knew-where and wasn't with them as he usually was. After unpacking and cataloguing all the food they had brought home - and it really had been an excellent haul, death-defying adventure considered - the three remaining men built a fire, each opened a can of their choice, and ate quickly without the usual talking, arguing, and camaraderie that made the long post-apocalyptic nights bearable. After dinner, Engie lounged around by the fire, feeling warm and cozy enough sitting on the floor to take his jacket and gloves off to make an impromptu pillow, although he had no chance of sleeping as his mind reeled with turmoil and regret. As he lay there, exhausted but unable to rest, Captain broke the awkward silence.

"Engie," he started. "I am giving you a mission."

"What? Now?"

"Ja. You must go find Mr. Snippy."

"Um. I think that I should just leave him alone for a bit -"

"Find him and  _apologize,_ " Captain said, overriding his objection, his usual blithe tone suddenly turned intense and absolute. He leaned forward and locked eyes with the engineer, and Engie flinched beneath the intensity of the purple-eyed man's deathly stare. Up until now, he hadn't seen Captain as anything but a bumbling buffoon, albeit an extremely lucky one, but now Engie clearly understood why he was their leader. He commanded absolute attention like no other, and as insane as he might have appeared, it seemed that even he knew that there were certain problems that had to be solved, or else the group would tear itself apart. "Understand me, mein minion?"

"Yes, Captain," he said unhappily, dragging himself up from the warm fire.

"Excellent!" he said, backing out of Engie's personal space, all cheer and bright happiness again. "Off you go!"

And thus began Engie's uncomfortable task of apologizing. It was never something he was good at. He dragged out the search for the sniper as long as he could, but unfortunately he didn't have far to go before he realized that Snippy had holed himself up in the relatively clean, intact bathroom of the abandoned building. Engie nearly muttered something about being cliché and crying in the bathroom like a girl, before realizing that it was his fault that the man was in there suffering in the first place.  _Gromov,_ he mentally berated himself,  _you've caused enough damage._  With a sinking feeling, the engineer realized that the sniper had been right about - well, basically everything, if Engie was going to be honest, but one thing most of all - he really had no idea when to shut up _._

Engie hovered outside the door of the bathroom, which was slightly ajar, and prepared himself to confront the sniper. He pushed the door open, got ready to take a step in, and stopped in his tracks.

Snippy was seated away from him at an angle, in front of a large, full-length mirror. On the counter beside him was a flickering candle, the room's only source of light. Next to it, laid out neatly on a clean rag, were needles, thread, a precious capful of rubbing alcohol, a bowl of water, and bloodied bandages. He hadn't noticed the engineer's attempt to enter, as he was too focused on the task at hand.

Engie himself watched in sickened horror as the sniper, stripped of his jacket and shirt and huddled in front of the mirror, sewed himself up with the same amount of calmness and deliberation he had demonstrated earlier that day atop the scrap heap. The injury he was laboring over was bloody and extensive - Engie could see a torn, jagged arc of teeth imprints tracked across his upper arm. Every once in awhile Snippy would look up to check his progress, run the needle through the flame to sterilize it again, dab at his arm with the rubbing alcohol, or attempt to stem the flow of blood with a bandage. Even from across the room, he could see the man trembling in agony, but refusing to make any noise except the slightest of hisses when the pain became absolutely unbearable.

"Snippy," he said, and Snippy flinched and immediately grabbed for his jacket to cover himself up, but he had left it near the door and had no choice but to sit there, watching the engineer slowly sidle across the room. As Engie slowly drew nearer, as if approaching an injured and unpredictable wild animal, he could see that the sniper's wound was far worse than he imagined. He remembered that Snippy had gotten bitten climbing the fence, but he had no idea it was that bad. After all, the man had easily shot the mutants dead right afterward - seemingly without even a second thought - and then made the rest of the trip back home with the heavy load of food without complaint.

The engineer suddenly realized that the sniper was lucky to have survived with his arm intact. And he shouldn't have been dealing with the open, gaping wound by himself with improvised medical tools, either - Engie felt nauseous watching the impromptu surgery and felt compelled to help in some way, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight or think of anything useful to do.

He could only sit back and see what toll the day's adventures had taken on the sniper. Beneath the torn flesh showed the white flash of bone - the engineer recalled that the creature's teeth were nearly the length of his hand.  Dark red blood coated Snippy's arm. He'd lost a lot of blood.

"You here to mock me, Gromov?" the sniper asked dully. Though he moderated his voice very carefully, Engie could tell that the marksman was barely able to speak for the excruciating pain he was in. He had a feeling that Snippy had only kept his mask on because behind it, he was crying.

"Listen, Snippy ..." Engie said, but shut up as the sniper jabbed the improvised surgical needle into his arm again. In spite of everything, Snippy's hands were completely steady and sure. "Um. I'm really - really sorry for what I said. Earlier, you know?"

"Did Captain put you up to this? Your mission's done. Now fuck off."

"He did, but that's not - that's not why I want to apologize. Snippy, I really shouldn't have said what I did earlier. It's - sorry. You're the one keeping us all alive - you're good at that - "

"That's not what you said earlier. You said I made it look  _easy_." Snippy said bitterly.  He tossed his medical supplies down and stood, and Engie got a full view of his reflection in the mirror. The sniper's body was covered in injuries, some old, some fresh. Dark scars stood out starkly on his pale skin. Long clawed scratches across his back, scabs and angry red scrapes on the backs of his hands and burn marks twisting up his wrists. A raised knot of tissue across his collarbone that could have only come from a broken bone. What looked like two bullet holes on his right shoulder blade. Bruises dotting his ribs, some black and purple-blue, some greenish and yellowing. And centered directly in the middle of his chest, just below his sternum, the gaping circular scar where Cancer had impaled him. He finally turned to face Engie.

"'Cause apparently this is what  _easy_ looks like," Snippy spat. "Apparently _easy_ means getting seriously  hurt finding food or shooting monsters or doing stupid pointless missions or even keeping myself alive, not to mention you three  _idiots_. _Easy_ would mean these scars are just for  _decoration_ 'cause it's really not like anyone fucking  _cares_  when I break my collarbone falling three stories or almost get burned alive or get my arm half chewed off by fucking wolf-bear-things.  _Easy_ means I don't get gratitude -  you know what I  _do_  get?"

Snippy took his mask off and set it down. It was now obvious that he'd been crying, but apparently he had gone past the point of feeling any humiliation. He reached over and slipped the engineer's mask off as well, making sure that the engineer could hear him and that he could look eye-to-eye with the other man, blue and copper, fury and remorse.

"You're not fast enough. You can't shoot well enough. You didn't complete the mission. You don't do anything right. You  _can't_ do anything right. _You are a fucking_   _failure_."

"Snippy - "

"You know what your problem is, Gromov? You think  _good_  and  _easy_  are the same fucking thing, 'cause you were good at what you did without having to try for it. Failure didn't make up your entire  _life_. You have no idea what it feels like to never be good enough, and then when you finally try to do nice things for other people, and people think you're just being a  _condescending asshole_ and  _showing off_ and they think that they could do a better job themselves and nobody's grateful, and then you feel like you should go kill yourself and save everyone else the trouble, except you  _can't_  because everyone's lives are on  _your_ shoulders now 'cause they're all that's left  and - argh, fuck!"

Snippy suddenly doubled over in pain, clutching at his arm. He glared at Engie one more time, slowly took a long breath, and did the terrible trick again where he turned everything off at the blink of an eye. All the pain in his expression smoothly glossed over. His eyes were blank as glass. He turned away and moved to pick up the needle again.

"Snippy, don't," Engie pleaded. He couldn't handle it - seeing Snippy shutting off all his emotions and pushing them down and trying so hard to be sane all the time. He couldn't deal with knowing that the sniper had probably felt this way for years. That there had never been anyone there for him, that there was never anyone he could talk to. That the sniper - the deadpan, caustic killjoy, the unshakably competent and perhaps most well-adjusted member of their little group - had to hide alone in a bathroom, forcing himself not to feel anything, so he could treat the injuries he had gotten trying to make others happy. But worst of all, Gromov was struck by the thought that this could not possibly have been the first time this had happened - it was just the first time anyone had thought of going after Snippy and talking to him.

A crushing feeling of pity suddenly weighed on his chest. Without thinking, the engineer stepped forward and wrapped one arm around the sniper's body, the other at the back of his head, pulling him in close.

"Gromov," the sniper said quietly, standing there, stiff and unmoving. "I don't need your pity. Just forget about everything and leave me alone -"

"Shut up," the engineer said, and pressed Snippy closer to him. The sniper finally relaxed and latched tightly onto the engineer, belying his desperation for some sort of human contact. The engineer knew full well that the sniper's outburst hadn't been directed at him. Snippy could have let those feelings fester for years, but Engie had been the one tactless enough to set it off, and that was exactly what he needed. Just to get everything off his chest. So everything he'd done wrong that day - from getting them nearly killed by mutants to starting an argument - had done some good, at least.

But Engie didn't say that out loud. He didn't say anything, firstly because he was terrible at comforting people, and secondly because he really and truly had nothing to say this time. What the sniper had told him wasn't a joke. It wasn't the usual biting sarcasm and nonchalance. It was so pained and tortured and personal and real that to say anything more would just be downright cruel.

They stood like that for a few minutes longer, until Engie noticed that Snippy looked paler than usual and was trembling violently, and that his breaths came too shallow and that his heart was racing too fast.

"Blood loss," Snippy explained matter-of-factly. He struggled to find the right words. "I wanted to finish before it got to me, but of course, you had to come in here ... "

Engie set him down gently on the chair he had been sitting in before, and reached for the needle.

"Just ask," he said. "I'll do it. You don't - you don't ever have to go through this alone again, okay?"

"Oh? Getting soft? Like you actually give two shits about anyone that isn't you, yourself, or Alexander Gromov."

The brief spark of anger Engie felt was quickly tempered by guilt and despair. Snippy had gone back to his carefully constructed couldn't-care-less attitude again, hiding his darkest emotions behind an impenetrable facade of snark and offhanded comments. But Engie could see the questioning look in the sniper's eyes, a bright gleam of desperate hope that possibly  _maybe_ this was for real and that someone really  _did_  care.

"Snippy, I mean it," the engineer said. "I don't care if you don't believe me, but I'm serious. You can't keep shutting it off and waiting for it to feel better, 'cause it's not going to. Just  _say something_ next time."

"Who's gonna listen? Captain? Pilot?"

Engie stared at him, equally offended and remorseful. "I will."

Snippy didn't respond, and Gromov hissed a sigh. He really  _had_ been trying to help. One way or another, he'd get Snippy to accept it. He took a second look at the man to realize that he had slumped down in the chair, seemingly unconscious. In a panic, Gromov checked his breathing and pulse. Shallow but even breaths, weak but steady pulse. He was just sleeping from well-justified physical and emotional exhaustion. There was no danger. He'd trusted the engineer enough to fall asleep in front of him. That's a start, Engie mentally assured himself.

With a sigh, the engineer picked up the needle, trying as gently as he could to finish the row of stitches Snippy had started. He was hardly a medic and didn't have the practice that Snippy had from constantly fixing himself up, but he was competent enough in his own right at figuring things out quickly. As he progressed, he noted with satisfaction that the wound had stopped bleeding. He just had to make sure that the sniper stayed put for awhile. He tied the surgical thread off, cut it, and sighed. The physical injuries would heal up just fine, but what of the deeper, more painful ones within his own mind?  _Best not think of that for now. I'll wait until he wakes up._

The engineer draped Snippy's arms around his shoulders and hauled the man up. He was a heavy dead weight, and carrying him over to the fire they'd built earlier was no small task, but Gromov reminded himself that it was the least he could do. He laid the sniper gently down on the ground, which was pleasantly warm from the radiant heat. He sat down next to the unconscious man and, absently, without thinking, traced his fingers over the scars on the sniper's back, wondering how he had managed to get all of them.

Engie picked up his fur-lined parka and draped it over the sniper, determining that it would keep him warm enough, and watched the man settle down. Snippy slept like the dead, the sleep of a man who'd truly earned it. Not that anybody was bothering to keep count, but the sniper had earned far more than a good night's sleep, the engineer supposed, suddenly feeling strangely protective of the still form next to him. But that's not how life works, he thought, as he too started to drop off into a hazy, dreamless stupor. Nothing good ever came easy.

**Author's Note:**

> i've moved this over from ff.net (where i am polyphonical and i'm pretty sure this was called something else) and cleaned it up - i wrote this thing appx. three years ago, so it's definitely not up-to-date with any new plot points and i'm afraid everyone's voices might be way off - but in any case, i hope you all enjoy!


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